When Everything Falls to Pieces
by onmyside
Summary: Elsie Hughes is seriously ill. Also many of the other staff members are sick. Charles Carson is confronted with not only a lot of work but with so much worry that he does not really know how to handle the situation.
1. 01  Uncertainty

_A/N So it's almost 3am on a Sunday Night and I could not stop writing. _

_Chapter One of a new Charles/Elsie fanfic. _

_No copyright infringement intended. I borrowed the characters from Mr. Fellowes and ITV. _

**When Everything Falls to Pieces**

**01. Uncertainty **_  
><em>

* * *

><p>The servant's hall was empty and the corridor deserted. It was uncommonly quiet downstairs when Charles opened the door to her sitting room. Maybe it was better this way, with everyone busy, instead of sitting around worrying. He did not even have to assign them to additional tasks today. It seemed as if they all had been glad to take up extra work. He wished he could join them, forget his worries, get lost in his work. But he was the only one in charge right now and he had to keep the household running as good as possible without her.<p>

He switched on the electric light in her room. It felt odd to be in here alone and without her. For a moment he remained standing in the doorway, realizing that she might never return to this place. That the last time he saw her in here, bid her good night, had really been the last time he ever saw her sitting on that desk he now approached. He tried to get rid of this thought by closing his eyes and shaking his head a little. His hand reached out for the documents and account books on her desk. He had to find the Rota and the household account book, at least these two things he would try to manage while she wasn't there. He had already put Mrs. Patmore in charge of the store cupboard which was a big sacrifice.

The book lay on top of the neat pile but the other book he could not find. He went through all the notebooks and single sheets. The linen book was there, the list for reordering what was missing in the storage cupboard he found but not the notebook where she kept track of who had a day off, was sick or was supposed to take care of work that was only due every other week. Charles went through the pile twice when a little key caught his eye. It had been hidden underneath a loose collection of notes she had kept at the top left corner of her desk. Although he was certain that she would never keep the notebook in one of the drawers, he was desperate enough to try his luck.

The little drawer opened easily but what he found inside made him draw back. A stack of letters, held together by a faded blue ribbon. He felt ashamed and like an intruder. How ridiculous of him to think that she would keep such an important book in one of the lockable drawers when she needed it every day. But instead of closing the drawer right away again, he took out the envelopes, put them aside without having a closer look at them. They were private and obviously dear to her. Otherwise she would not have kept them. Apart from the letters, the drawer was empty. Still, his hand reached inside to make sure he had not missed something. His fingers touched another piece of paper that had got stuck at the far end of the little drawer. He got hold of it and almost let it drop immediately when he saw what it was.

A yellowed photograph depicting a younger version of him was lying in front of him on the desk. He dared to pick it up again. Although he could not remember the exact year he had this picture taken he vividly remembered the day he gave it to her. A smile crossed his face and for a brief moment he forgot his worries and fears. It had been her first season at Downton. She had been taken on as head housemaid in early March. He had just been promoted to the post as butler in January of the same year. They were both new to their respective jobs. He had always believed that this had been the main reason why they got along so well from the beginning. Although he was her superior and she was in fact under the old housekeeper's jurisdiction they spent a lot of time together and became friends eventually. When the season approached at the end of April he was reluctant to go to London for four long months, leaving her behind. Though he did not think of her as a love interest, he appreciated her company and the discussion they had about all kinds of things. He gave her the photograph so that she would not forgot what he looked like. She had laughed at him, telling him she would never forget his face and joked about that she would probably discuss everything that was on her mind with the picture instead of him from now on. Because his portrait would not answer back.

He heaved a sigh and put the photograph back, covered it with the letters and locked the drawer again. His hand lingered on the pile of books for a while as his mind was still trying to come to terms with the memories the picture had evoked. The sudden sound of footsteps and muffled conversation brought him back to reality and reminded him of the initial reason he had come downstairs. Charles had a look at the room again, scanned the books on the shelf and finally found what he had been looking for on the side table next to her armchair. An empty glass of wine stood beside it. She must have worked on the Rota before it happened. He took the empty glass and the notebook and left the room. Before he switched off the light he turned around one more time. She would come back. She had to.

ooooo

The expression on Anna's face told him that she was worse. In the morning he had seen to her himself. She had been asleep, her face flushed by fever but her breathing had been regular and strong. But now it was obvious that her condition had changed though Anna only looked at him and did not say a word. She just sat down in front of her plate and waited for him to serve out the stew they would have for dinner. They had their meal without much talk and when the dishes were cleared away and Anna was about to leave the servant's hall, Charles stood up and took her aside.

"How is she?" he asked in almost a whisper.

Anna furrowed her brow with worry. "When I last saw to her, she was awoke Mr. Carson but she did not know where she was. The fever was so high."

"Had Dr. Clarkson been there to see her?"

Anna shook her head. "He had left some medicine and told me what to do but I think you should call him, Mr. Carson."

He nodded his head in approval and let the housemaid go. Soon the servant's hall was empty again whereas he still stood rooted to the spot. She had to get better. There must be something they could do for her. At least there must be a way to stabilize her, to stop the progress of the illness. They couldn't give up on her, not yet, not now. He pulled himself together and made his way to his pantry to call Dr. Clarkson.

It took a while until the connection was established. Dr. Clarkson had been busy and was summoned to the phone by a nurse. "Yes. Who's speaking?"

"It's Mr. Carson, doctor." He managed to say with his voice as strong as he could muster. "Her condition has worsened." At the other end of the phone he could hear the doctor sigh. An awkward silence developed and Charles held his breath.

"All right Mr. Carson. I come at once. But I can't promise anything."

ooooo

It had started two days ago in the late evening hours. She was about to go upstairs to get some sleep. The day had been tiring. Already five housemaids had come down with Spanish flu a few days ago. Their condition was not serious but they had to remain in bed for at least a week to recover. The workload Elsie had to cope with was immense. They had tried to delegate as much as possible but in the end she had to do most of the work herself. He had noticed her pale face, the dark circles under her eyes, knew that she did not sleep at all or at least not well enough to regain her strength. Whenever he asked her if everything was all right, if she needed help, she refused, saying she was fine. But then he found her unconscious at the foot of the stairs when he was on his way up to his bedroom. He had not noticed the fever, the beads of sweat on her face earlier and damned himself for not taking care of her enough. He carried her upstairs to her room and was glad that he made enough noise to wake Anna. She took care of her while he left her bedroom trying to stay calm and to maintain a composed self. If it had not been highly inappropriate he would have stayed with her the whole night but instead he had sent for Dr. Clarkson and left Anna in charge.

She had contracted the serious form of the illness that came with high fever and the risk of pneumonia. Dr. Clarkson had ordered bed rest, aspirin and a regular intake of fluids. That was by then all he could do. She had not woken up until the next morning. Her fever had still been high but at least she had recognized the faces around her, him and Anna and asked what had happened. Charles had almost yelled at her when Elsie tried to get out of her bed and back to work. And it took him an hour to convince her that she needed to rest, take her medicine and stay in bed for at least a week. He had promised her to take care of her duties as good as he could, had somehow managed to calm her down.

And so far everything was still running more or the less in a controlled way but it took all his strength to keep it that way. The most important thing was that he suppressed his own worries in front of the staff. If they knew about his inner turmoil everything was lost.

But now, his façade formed cracks. First the old photograph he had found in the depths of her desk and now he stood at the foot of her bed and watched as Dr. Clarkson did his work. She was barely conscious, her hair, sweaty from the fever, clung to her head, her face was red from the high temperature. He clutched the wooden board in front of him, trying to steady himself. He could hardly bear to look at her and had his gaze was fixed on Dr. Clarkson instead who took her temperature, tried to make her drink some water and take another aspirin. But Elsie turned away, her head moving uncontrollably on her cushion in a feverish dream. She kept muttering something and Charles tried to understand the words and at the same time avoided to look at her.

Dr. Clarkson rubbed his temple with his index finger. "She needs to take this, Mr. Carson. It's the only thing I can do to help her right now. That, and leg compresses to bring the fever down at least a bit."

Charles knew that he was the only person in this house that could possibly make Elsie do something she would normally refuse to. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and stepped over to the other side of the bed, sat down on one of the chairs Anna had previously occupied. Dr. Clarkson handed him the glass and the aspirin. Charles composed himself, put on a serious and bland expression and tried to calm Elsie down.

"Mrs. Hughes, can you hear me?" his voice should have sounded strong but it cracked and was the complete opposite to the look on his face. "You need to wake up. It's very important that you take this medicine now." He hesitantly reached out to touch her shoulder and almost withdrew his hand when his fingers touched her bare skin. It was burning hot from the fever besides he felt uneasy touching her like this. Her head was still moving and she would not lie still. Charles tried to lower his voice, make it sound softer. "Mrs. Hughes, please." His thumb stroked her collarbone and she gradually calmed down, moaning, whispering something that sounded like _don't leave me alone._"I'm here. Everything is going to be fine," he answered. Her eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at him, confused, half awake.

"Shhhh," he soothed her. "There is nothing to worry about."

"What's going on?" her voice was husky, almost inaudible.

Charles quickly withdrew his hand, took the glass of water and offered it to her. "You have the Spanish flu and at the moment we are all rather worried." It was Dr. Clarkson who answered her question. Whereas Charles helped her taking a few sips of water.

"Is it bad," she whispered, turning her head to look at the doctor instead of at Charles.

"I would say so, yes. You need to take the aspirin now and then sleep again. Rest is the best cure. Anna and Mr. Carson are taking good care of you." He nodded at Charles and Elsie's head slowly moved around on the cushion to face him again.

He handed her the aspirin and again helped her with the glass of water. Before he could say something to make her feel better, she closed her eyes and fell asleep again, completely exhausted.

ooooo

"Thank you Mr. Carson. You were a great help." Dr. Clarkson dried his hands on the towel that lay next to the washing basin in Elsie's room. "Please keep an eye on her. I know it's not what you would usually do…"

He interrupted the doctor. "I should not even be in here. It's highly inappropriate and I'm not sure that Mrs. Hughes…"

Now it was Dr. Clarkson who interrupted him. "It does not matter right now what is against your rules and what is not. She needs your support. You managed to calm her down twice. She obviously trusts you."

He was probably right though the uneasiness was still there. He was standing in her bedroom, discussing her health with Dr. Clarkson while she was lying in her bed, fast asleep. He did not know what to think at the moment, how to proceed. Actually he wanted to stay with her, help her get through the night, comfort her. But this was against every rule he had ever implemented. Charles cleared his throat, ready to say anything, something in reply but he did not know what.

"Stay with her tonight. And call me when she gets worse. I don't want her to catch pneumonia." Dr. Clarkson shook his hand and left the room. The door fell shut behind him.

* * *

><p><em>AN2: Obviously they are not in any way romantically involved **yet**. I wanted to try a different approach. _

_Just let me know what you think! I love your reviews they make me smile, all of them :)_


	2. 02 Reflections

_A/N Thank you for your wonderful reviews! They helped a lot! 3_

_No copyright infringement intended. I borrowed the characters from Mr. Fellowes and ITV until the beginning of series 3. Then I might give them back..._

**02. Reflection**

* * *

><p>There he was, standing by the door, looking at it as if Dr. Clarkson would return any minute to tell him that it would be better to have Anna or a nurse from the hospital taking care of her. He wasn't good at such things, he never had been. It was true, he had managed to calm her down, she fully trusted him, even when seriously ill. But he was not the kind of person that others would go to for support. He always felt awkward whenever emotions were involved: like when one of the hall boys was having a bad day and locked himself in his room because he had been bullied by the older boys or when William had been continuously threatened by Thomas. In all cases he had consulted Mrs. Hughes. Asked for her help, begged her to sort things out because he could not. He could give orders, he could reprimand the staff members that were under his jurisdiction. He cared for them, tried to make sure they were all right with whatever they were doing, but giving them advice when it came to emotional matters had always been a problem.<p>

Others might think he was cold-hearted and stern but in fact he was just afraid he would do something wrong and worsen the situation instead of making it bearable and better. There was only one person at Downton he could talk to openly, who understood his inability to handle emotional situations and the dilemma he was in so often. Yet they always only talked about the other staff members, never about themselves. It had never been necessary. Their jobs were more important than their own feelings. At least he had thought so until now.

Now it was him who had to give comfort and support. He could not ask for her help because she was the one that needed it. Charles was torn between his worries for her and his fear of doing something wrong, of crossing that invisible line that had always been there between them. It had kept them at a safe distance, made their friendship work over the years.

When he had been away for his first season he had left behind a young woman he was utterly fond of. She had made him smile even on the dreariest days. It had been her advice he had sought for whenever he had to confront an argument between two members of staff. She was so full of energy, so good at her job that he almost treated her like an equal, like the housekeeper and not like the head housemaid she actually was. They had exchanged many letters during those months. First she had only given an account of the daily happenings at the estate. They were short, impersonal letters. But she always started them with _Dearest Mr. Carson _and signed them with an elegantly curved capital E. Never with her full name. After a month their letters gradually became more personal. She was longing for someone whom she could talk to. They discussed the new housemaids that had been hired while he was away. She complained about that they had not asked for her opinion about the two girls. Elsie found them childish and disrespectful and she had a heated argument with the housekeeper Mrs. Willow about this. He told her that one day she would be housekeeper and it would be her decision whom to hire. He could clearly see her in this position. She was stubborn enough, stern enough and had already gained so much respect for herself in the household that it was just a matter of time until her promotion.

He told her about the balls he attended and that all this splendour he witnessed in London was so different from their lives in Yorkshire. He longed to be back where everything was familiar to him. London was so overwhelming. Instead of disagreeing with him, she was a woman after all and all the women he knew were very curious about London and the glamorous life during the season, her thoughts about their lives at Downton matched his. She liked the quiet countryside, their secure employment. They had so much in common and yet did not know much about the respective other.

Three weeks before his return to Downton a letter arrived that changed everything between them. She did not mention the household with one word instead she wrote about herself, told him about her fears, her wishes, her feelings. It wasn't a long letter, only one page, filled with her neat handwriting but it contained so much information that he could not answer right away.

She had recognized that he was the only person she confided in. She had told him things she would never have said aloud because he made her feel that he understood her. He was the only one that knew about her life before going into service, her sister, her parents, her life on the farm. He was the only one that knew how alone she felt sometimes at night in a house full of people. He was the only one that knew about her doubts, if she had chosen the right way, made the right decision, chose a life in service instead of marriage and a family. She was afraid that after his return from London he would look at her differently, see more than a good friend in her now that she had told him so much about herself. And she was afraid of that. He could read that between the lines.

When he returned it took her two days until she finally found the courage to talk to him. She apologized for her last letter, for being so sentimental and emotional. He should forget about it. _Can I still call you a good friend? _It was the best thing that had ever happened to him and yet from this day on, they had established this invisible line between them that neither of them ever crossed.

ooooo

He realized that he had stared at her all the while, still stood next to the door and had not moved an inch since Dr. Clarkson left. She was in a deep sleep and had curled up on one side of the bed. He could hear her regular breathing. Charles carefully took a few steps back towards the bed and allowed himself to look at her closely now.

The last two days he had worried about her. But if he was honest with himself he had to admit that he actually was afraid for her life. This thought had haunted him all day and was now so pressing that it paralyzed him. Where was his strength? Why was he so afraid? He was a grown man and had seen things much worse than a sick colleague. The answer was simple. It lay right in front of him in this bed with the covers half pushed away in a desperate attempt to cool down her body.

He should pull the cover back up, tug it around her feverish body to keep her warm. She murmured something in her sleep. Words he did not understand. Her hand clutched the cushion underneath her sweaty head and her face was half covered by her hair.

Somehow he managed to take a few more steps forward until he stood next to the bed again. He had never seen her like this, so vulnerable, so helpless. Usually she was the strong one who always told him to ease up. She turned around and her hand reached out and fell over the edge of the bed, gently brushing his leg. That was it. He could no longer stand there and do nothing. His heart won over his mind. Friendship was more important than the rules of this house.

He bent down and took her hand to put it back onto the cushion. She stirred in her sleep. "Shhh," he whispered. "I'm here." He gently stroked her hair, pushed the loose strands out of her face and then pulled the bed cover back up to cover her bare arms. He had never been so close to her or touched her like this and he was sure that she would have backed off had she been awake. Charles sat down again on the chair and rested his hand next to her head.

She uttered a deep sigh. "Everything will be all right, I promise."

ooooo

He awoke at the break of dawn with a sharp pain in his back. When did he fall asleep? He could not remember. All he knew was that he had stroked her hair and thought about how inappropriate all of this was. Yet at the same time he had never felt so close to her before. Something he had hidden deep inside him was starting to surface slowly.

His hand was still lying on the bed but her head rested on top of it and her hand held his wrist tightly. He inadvertently had to smile at this sight. Then he tried to free his hand without waking her up.

It was better if he left her bedroom before the rest of the staff woke up. Anna would surely knock on the door soon to look after Elsie. Just as he was about to stand up from the uncomfortable chair, she opened her eyes and groaned. She slowly shifted her head so that she could look at him.

"Mr. Carson?" she whispered confused.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?" he softly answered.

"I'm thirsty," she swallowed and was fell into a fit of coughing.

He reached for the glass and held it for her. With his other hand he supported her head so that she was able to take a few sips. The coughing subsided and she dropped her head back onto the cushion.

"Have you been here all night?" She had problems keeping her eyes open. Her eyelids were heavy with sleep but Charles saw how she fought against getting back to sleep. It made him smile because there was obviously some strength left in her weakened body.

"I know I should not have stayed. I'm sorry for that Mrs. Hughes." He felt the urge to apologize although he knew it was useless. But he had almost trespassed their line.

She reached out for his hand. "Don't be. That was very kind of you." Her fingers touched his, then her hand slipped away. She had lost her fight against the tiredness.

ooooo

At breakfast he missed her. She always sat next to him and although they scarcely talked during breakfast he suddenly felt the need to look at her and engage her in a conversation. The empty chair next to him made him nervous. Dr. Clarkson had come at seven, examined Elsie and told him that they needed to bring the fever down until the next day otherwise her weakened body would no longer be able to fight against the flu. She would unavoidably catch pneumonia.

He had not told his staff of her condition. They did not need to know. Only Anna was informed and he could trust her.

The morning hours were so busy that he had no time to think about last night. Mrs. Patmore was on the rampage because important ingredients for her dinner tonight were missing. No one had ordered them and she blamed Charles. It took him at least thirty minutes to explain to her that she was now responsible for the store cupboard and that it was her responsibility to keep it well stocked. Mrs. Patmore looked at him in disbelief. She never had to do that!

"Well you always wanted to have the power over the store cupboard. Now you have it as well as all the duties that come with it." With that he left her standing dumbfounded in the doorway to the kitchen and went upstairs to check if the housemaids had managed to clean the large fireplace in the hall properly.

The hall was a mess. Obviously the chimney had been blocked up by something that the girls tried to remove. As a result a large cloud of soot had covered the carpet in front of the fireplace and the housemaid's dresses. He sent them up to their rooms to change while the hall boys tried to clean away the mess as fast as possible.

Without her help he needed four eyes, four hands and twice his energy to have everything ready in time. He wondered why he had not seen all these problems in the last two days. Clearly it was not something that had appeared out of nowhere. How did she manage to keep it all running without any problems?

ooooo

A year after her arrival at Downton Mrs. Willow decided that it was time for her to retire. Elsie Hughes had proven to be excellent in her job and had been promoted to the post as housekeeper without any doubts. There had been no need for him to talk to Lord Grantham about her promotion. They were all very fond of her and knew that she was capable of running the household flawlessly.

After her first day in the new position, Charles had come over to her sitting room with two glasses and the rest of the dinner wine to drink to her health. She had laughed at him and his silly idea. It was the way things ought to be, she had told him. There was nothing peculiar or special about her promotion. Still Charles convinced her that, as a friend, he wanted to wish her good luck and that she could not deny him that.

They sat in her new room until long after midnight. He explained some of the account books to her, helped her sort Mrs. Willow's notebooks and gave her some advice on the Rota. Finally they were on equal terms though the thin invisible line was still there.

* * *

><p><em>AN2: Charles is still not sure what he is doing. But I bet he will realize it soon._

_As always: I really appreciate your reviews! They make me smile, they inspire me. _


	3. 03 Worry

_A/N A Sunday afternoon spent on my couch, drinking cocoa, eating too much chocolate. I want to thank all of you for your wonderful reviews! They always make me very happy!_

__No copyright infringement intended. I borrowed the characters from Mr. Fellowes and ITV until the beginning of series 3. Then I might give them back...__

**3. Worry**

* * *

><p>He was exhausted. The day had been absolutely horrible. Wherever he went there was work to do. He supervised the housemaids, managed to prevent an argument between Mrs. Patmore and the new kitchen maid Helen, had to reprimand Thomas several times when the footman was putting on his military behaviour again. Not once had he found the time to go upstairs to her bedroom and see if she was any better. Anna had been with her several times during the day but Charles never got a chance to ask the housemaid if Elsie's condition was still worse.<p>

So his worries had accompanied him the entire day along with the stress. After dinner he fell into the chair behind his desk completely worn out. His head was throbbing, his back aching and in addition to that he still had to go through the wine ledger to prepare a new order for tomorrow. He pressed both thumbs to his temples and closed his eyes to get rid of the pain. It did not work at all. If it had any effect the headache just got worse. He sighed, opened the wine ledger and began to go through the columns filled with his neat handwriting though he had problems concentrating on it.

His thoughts continuously drifted back to the early morning. How she had held his hand close to her face and seemed not at all wonder why he was sitting at her bed. During the day any inattentiveness would have caused a complete chaos and it had cost him a lot of restraint to focus on his work and not let his worries prevail. But now that he was alone there was no chance of ignoring them any longer. As much as he had reluctantly stayed with her last night he now felt the urge to be with her tonight as well.

Somehow the line was slowly fading though he did not know how to finally cross it without destroying what they had established on either side of it over the years.

ooooo

Anna knocked at the doorframe asking for permission to enter his pantry.

"Mr. Carson, Dr. Clarkson was just here to have a look at Mrs. Hughes. He sent me down to inform you that her condition still hasn't improved."

The pencil he was holding dropped from his hands and his body tensed up at this bad news. Why had no one told him that the doctor had been called? He closed the ledger and was about to answer when Anna continued and cut him short. "I did not want to bother you because you had been very busy today so I thought it would be best if I took care of Mrs. Hughes."

"That was very kind of you Anna," he managed to say through gritted teeth although it was not what he really wanted to answer. He was in charge especially when it came to Elsie Hughes. He should have been the one to call the doctor and to have noticed that her condition was not improving. He felt responsible for her. More than he ever knew he would. She was his colleague, his friend, the person he confided in.

Anna was still standing in front of his desk after she had given him an update of Elsie's condition. "Is there something else?"The head housemaid wrung her hands and Charles sensed the uneasiness.

"Well, she whispered your name but she did not wake up. The fever is still so high. Dr. Clarkson wants you to stay with her. He said it will probably help her." She looked at him and he could see that he was at least as worried as he was.

ooooo

He went upstairs to her room after he had sent the rest of the servants to bed for an early night. They had been as exhausted as he was and if they did not all get a good night's rest, tomorrow would turn into a disaster. Charles was glad that everybody accepted his order without questioning. They all knew that it had to do with Mrs. Hughes serious condition although he tried to give the impression that everything was fine.

He knocked at her door and waited a moment before he entered her bedroom. The sight that met his eyes was heartbreaking. The bed cover was lying on the floor, her face was red and the forehead covered in sweat. Charles decided not to think about any rules or let his uneasiness take control once more. The only thing that mattered now was friendship. For once in his life he did not care about the consequences that might occur. He went over to where the bed cover lay and picked it up. It was damp with sweat and he could not cover her with it again. She turned around on the mattress in a fitful sleep, whimpering and breathing heavily. He reached out and carefully touched her shoulder, all the doubts he had had yesterday about how inappropriate all of this was were gone. She was not only his colleague right now, she was his best friend.

She reacted to his touch and relaxed a bit. Her body stopped to turn around. "I will stay with you tonight but I have to get you a new blanket," he whispered although he was not sure that she could hear him. His thumb stroked her cheek and he brushed away the hair on her forehead before he let go of her shoulder.

The useless bed cover still in his hand, he left her room and walked along the hallway to the men's quarters. The door between the two corridors was locked and he nervously fumbled with the key that always hung on the little hook by the door. He had to be fast and could not leave her alone for too long. Once in his room he folded the bed cover and put it across his armchair. Then he grabbed his own cover and made his way back towards her bedroom.

She was still sleeping and her nightdress clung to her body, also wet from perspiration. He had not noticed this before and averted his gaze when he draped the bed cover over her. Maybe he had gone one step too far now, taken to many liberties, allowed his feelings for her to emerge from the part of his heart where he had locked them away years ago. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths before he could look at her again now covered with his blanket.

ooooo

A few years ago he had been on his round around the house to make sure that every door and window was locked. It was raining heavily outside and everyone had been in a rather bad mood all day. Including him. When he reached the back door it was pushed open the moment he was about to put the key into the lock. She stood in front of him, clothes dripping wet, her hat halfway off her head but with a smiling face.

"Oh Mr. Carson, thank god I'm not too late!" she came inside and took of her hat so that her wet hair fell down upon her shoulders. "I lost track of time on my way back from the village and then it would not stop raining."

He looked at her speechless with the key still in his hands and the backdoor half open.

"You can lock the door now," she laughed. "I don't think anyone else is still out there." She left him standing at the door and went into her sitting room leaving a number of wet footprints on the stone floor behind. He had never seen her with her hair down and had not realized how much younger and beautiful she looked that way.

"Mr. Carson, could you give me a hand?" Her voice reminded him that he should better lock up now and forget what he had just thought about her. There were rules and they had both decided to abide by them in order to make their friendship and their life at Downton work. Although it was hard for him to only think of her as a friend and colleague. He put the key back into his pocket and made his way into her sitting room where she struggled with her wet coat.

"I can't seem to get out of it. It's simply too drenched." She had pinned up her wet hair somewhat neatly again he disappointedly noticed. "It would be nice if you could help me."

He stepped behind her, took the wet coat from her but avoided to touch her shoulders. "We better put it on a coathanger and hang it up in the kitchen next to the oven."

"That would be best, I think. I would need it on Sunday for church. One of the maids will have to press it tomorrow when it's dry." She looked down at her dress and the wet and muddy seam. "And this dress should also go to the laundry I guess."

"Why did you leave for the village at all?"

"I had some letters to post. It's my sister's birthday in a few days, remember?" He did in fact remember that she had mentioned it earlier but had completely forgotten about it the moment she stood in front of him with her dress wet from the rain and her always so perfect appearance completely ruined by the bad weather. What had distracted him most was that she did not seem to care. He had always thought that she would never let anyone see her personal side. He knew that she made an exception for him but since their first season she had never again gave away too much of how she actually felt and only from time to time did he catch a glimpse of who she really was. She had really surprised him with her reaction that night. And from that moment on he realized that she fully trusted him because she knew that he would never take advantage of a situation like this when he had the chance to touch her or to see her personal side instead of her restrained housekeeper self.

ooooo

He wiped the sweat away from her forehead with a damp cloth. Over and over again he wrung it out, soaked it with fresh cold water and repeated the process. Thankfully, she was no longer turning around in her sleep but lay on her back with her left cheek resting on the cushion. He checked her temperature by placing the back of his hand on her forehead. It was still high but her face felt a bit cooler now and looked a bit less red than before. Her breathing had also steadied. He gently let his hand brush across her cheek then withdrew it quickly when she suddenly opened her eyes.

"You're still here," she whispered not at all surprised that he sat next to her bed again. "How long had I been asleep?"

He cleared his throat and felt caught. "All day, Mrs. Hughes. Anna looked after you."

She closed her eyes for a second and he thought she had gone back to sleep. "I can't remember that. But you were here this morning." Her voice was very weak and breathy. There was a tiny smile on her lips when she spoke.

_I could not leave you alone last night, _he was about to say. "I had to make sure that you took your medicine." To distract himself he reached for the glass of water and another aspirin. "Speaking of it, I think you should take this now."

She tried to raise her head but could not find the strength to do so. Her eyes had a pleading look when she met his gaze. Charles tried to convince himself that he would not step across their line nor take advantage of the situation in any way by helping her. His hand supported her head while he helped her to take the tablet and drink a bit of water to swallow it. He bedded her head on the cushion again, put the glass away and wanted to withdraw his hand from her head when she took hold of it. Charles had to get closer to the bed in order to sit comfortable on the chair while she held his hand.

"Please tell me the truth." Her eyes were closed and her voice so weak he almost could not understand what she had just said. When the words reached his ears he swallowed hard. He had not realized that she had thought about that, had been so occupied with his worries for her that he had overlooked how frightened she must be.

"Your temperature is too high and you are very weak," he started to say. Then he lost his courage and simply looked at her, unable to phrase the next sentence. When Dr. Clarkson had diagnosed her with Spanish flu he did almost collapse. Ms. Swire had lost her life, her Ladyship had almost lost hers too. He could not bear the thought of letting her go, of seeing her die of this unpredictable illness. So he had tried not to think of it, to stay optimistic and he had somehow managed to fool himself until now. "When the fever does not go down until tomorrow…" he could not go on. The lump that had formed in his throat was too big to swallow.

A single tear ran across her cheek. He intuitively wiped it away with the thumb of his other hand. "Please don't." his voice cracked. "Remember, you are the strong one. You will fight this illness."

She opened her eyes and he could see the fear in them, the pleading for comfort. She was not Mrs. Hughes the housekeeper right now who was always strong and steadfast. Elise Hughes was lying in this bed, the housemaid he had always held dear, the woman he had always respected, the colleague and friend. He decided to cross their line now, decided that he would always regret it if he would deny her the comfort she so desperately needed right now.

He sat down on the bed next to her knees and helped her to sit up. She wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder while he drew her into a close embrace. Why had they made the decision to stay on their respective side of the line all those years?

Charles gently stroked her back. She silently cried into his dinner jacket. He placed a soft kiss on the top of her head and would hold her forever if she wished for it.

* * *

><p><em>AN2: almost there. Got stuck a bit because initially I wanted Charles to realize that he loves her. next chapter then :)_

_Have a wonderful Sunday afternoon/night/day. See you on Valentines Day._


	4. 04 Crossing the Line

_A/N Finally I managed to finish this chapter. Thanks for all your wonderful, kind, encouraging, lovely reviews! They mean a lot to me!_

**The characters all belong to Mr. Fellowes, ITV, Masterpiece. I just "play" with them...**

****04. Crossing the Line****

* * *

><p>Eventually she stopped crying and he felt how her body relaxed in his embrace. Her hands lost their grip on his jacket and slid down. She had fallen asleep again. Charles gently put her back into the bed and covered her with his blanket. She looked so peaceful as if everything was all right and there was nothing to worry about. Her lips were slightly open and she drew a deep breath before she whispered something. He had to bend down, his face right above hers, so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "Stay," she whispered again. He closed his eyes and was fighting down the tears that were about to well up, his face still hovering closely over hers. "Please," he heard her faint voice next to his ear.<p>

Slowly he sat up again, took her hand and let his thumb stroke her wrist. "I don't leave you alone." And he felt something wet running along his cheek. He could not remember when he had last cried and tried to calm himself down by breathing deeply and slowly in and out. At the same time he concentrated on comforting her by holding her hand. He would lose her, maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow. If this were the last hours they would spend together he had to make certain that they were perfect. He would be strong for both of them, would not let his sadness nor his worries show when she woke up. He had made his decision. Elsie Hughes would not die alone. He would be there. _In sickness and in health. _The phrase suddenly came to his mind. _For better or worse, for richer, for poorer._

ooooo

"Have you ever thought about getting married?" he asked while they were walking along the path that led from the village back to the estate.

Elsie had shot him a puzzled look. "How did that thought cross your mind?"

"I am sorry." It had been a stupid idea to bring this topic up.

"Well, you obviously wanted to know what my opinion about marriage is, Mr. Carson. You cannot simply avoid my answer now that you've asked." The amused tone in her voice made him smile and forget the doubts he had had seconds before. "The fact is I've told you already. Remember? I wanted to get married but I also wanted to go into service. And then I always loved my work more than any man and I love my work here at Downton. It had been my choice. Of course I had my doubts but I'm quite content with how my life is right now. I am a respected member of the household, I am in a senior position and I can call you a friend." She looked up to him, her gaze locked with his and she suddenly stopped walking, stood rooted on the spot for a while, staring into his eyes. He could see how her breath quickened, for one moment they had exactly reached the point they both had tried so desperately to avoid all those years. She had said in her final letter, he had received during his first season, that she was feeling more than friendship for him. He had stared at these words, read them over and over again. His heart had skipped several beats but the sentence that followed had destroyed everything. _And because I'm longing for something that goes beyond our friendship I cannot continue to be so close to you. If I want to stay your friend, and want to stay at Downton then I must control my feelings. Please allow me to do that and do not try to convince me to do otherwise. _

ooooo

He was tired and had problems keeping his eyes open. If he fell asleep now and woke up later only to see that she had left this world without giving him a chance to say good bye and to tell her how much she really meant to him, he would never forgive himself. So he tried to stay awake, allowed his memory to recall happy moments of the many years they had worked together, lived together, laughed together, been together as friends. All the while he looked at her face that looked so different now. Relaxed, peaceful, and not at all like the Mrs. Hughes everyone downstairs knew. He had known her for so many years now and got to know both sides of her. She was a different person during the day. Stern, disciplined, always alert and at all times very well informed about what was going on around the house. In the evenings when they shared a cup of tea or a glass of wine her housekeeper demeanor most of the time gave way for the real Elsie Hughes. A kind and caring woman that was not overly emotional or sentimental. Her character was so well balanced that he more than once thought her to be perfect.

Charles startled. He had temporarily dozed off. One look at her assured him that she was still breathing but was now lying on her right side. Her hand had slipped away from his. Charles stood up and went over to the chest of drawers where a jug full of water stood next to a wash bowl. He poured some water over his hands and splashed it into his face to overcome the tiredness then looked at his reflection in the mirror in front of him. He looked how he felt right now. Tired, worn out, worried, afraid. She would probably tell him not to worry too much as every problem would dissolve sooner or later. He would smile at her and tell her that she was right. But not tonight.

He returned to her bed and sat down on the chair again. It was uncomfortable enough to prevent him from dozing off again. His hand reached out to touch her head again like it did last night. He stroked it reassuringly, let his fingers comb through her hair and brushed her check more than once until he let his hand rest there.

How long did he know her now? How often had he looked into that face and into her eyes. And how rarely had he been able to touch her. Occasionally she would link arms with him when they walked back from church on Sundays. He had often put his hand on her shoulder when she was in a very bad mood to calm her down. However he had never touched her face like this because he was too afraid of the consequences, too aware of the rules of this house and of her feelings towards him. He never risked crossing the line because he knew that it would end their friendship. And after all these years of restraint, of holding back his feelings he had almost forgotten they even existed. So used had he become to not think of them in her presence. But during the last few days all had come back.

She was the only woman he had ever cared for, the only one he had always wanted to look at, to touch and love. Now it was too late.

ooooo

His head fell onto his left shoulder and he was suddenly wide awake again. He must have fallen asleep although he had tried everything not to. Charles had a look at his pocket watch. The clock hand indicated that it was already 3am in the morning. In about two hours the house would wake up again. He turned his head to have a look at her, to make sure she was still there. Her back was turned towards so he could not see her face but her breath was even. To his relief she had not pushed back the bed cover once more. He studied her for a few minutes, observed how her chest slowly rose and fell again underneath the covers.

When he tried to shift to a more comfortable position on his chair the pain in his back returned. Charles clenched his teeth and then made a decision. There was enough space on the mattress for him to move from the uncomfortable chair to sit on the bed, with his back leaning against the headboard. He carefully took a seat and stretched out his legs. Whoever entered the room now would surely gasp at the sight. But he had nothing to lose anymore. He did not care about what was appropriate now and had finally crossed the line. His body relaxed instantly, the pain in his back subsided.

She stirred in her sleep and turned around. Her arm landed on his legs. Charles gently stroked it and let his eyes fall shut. He drifted away into an uneasy sleep.

"Charles?" he could hear her voice in his dream, how she softly called out his name, addressing him with his Christian name. A smile crossed his lips. She had never called him Charles and it sounded wonderful from her mouth. "Charles?" this time her voice was nearer and he felt something touching his chest. Reluctantly he opened his eyes and realized where he was. The room was very dark and exceptionally cold however the hand on his chest was warm and real. His back no longer rested against the headboard but he had slid down and only his head still leaned against the wood. So it had not been a dream. He turned his head and saw how she looked up at him bleary-eyed. His first impulse was to stand up, get back to the chair and apologize for what he had done. He had not expected her to wake up again this night. His mind had been so occupied with the fear of losing her and his urge to comfort her during her last hours that he had not thought about her recovery any more.

He took her hand and gave it a squeeze, unable to talk at the moment. His other hand reached out to touch her face and her forehead. Her skin was soft and he held his breath when he realized that it no longer felt blazing hot.

Her head rested next to his shoulder. "You stayed," she whispered. "Thank you."

He was still unable to say anything. Carefully he put his arm around her and drew her closer to his side while her hand still rested on his chest. It was like a silent agreement to leave the past with all its rules behind them.

ooooo

When morning dawned and the house began to stir they were both fast asleep. She had wrapped her arm around his chest and rested her head on his shoulder. They did not hear the knock on the door or how Anna entered the room. What she saw made her hold her breath for a second and then smile. She left as quietly as she had come and closed the door behind her.

The faint clicking of the door lock woke him up and for the first time in days the smile on his face was one of utter relief and happiness. She had made it through the worst and was sleeping peacefully next to him. Charles tried to stand up as quietly as possible. He did not want to wake her up. She needed to rest. Hs back was a bit stiff and his neck hurt but he did not mind when he took one last look at her before leaving her room.

He changed his clothes quickly and got ready for the day before he went downstairs. When he took his seat at the head of the table he first noticed Miss O'Brien's suspicious look at him and then Anna's smiling face. Both could not bother him today though he kept his relief to himself and would not wear it on his face in form of a smile. The only thing he did before they all started with their breakfast was to tell them that Mrs. Hughes was on the way to recovery. The news was received with relief and the chatter around the table was much livelier than the days before.

When Daisy had gathered their empty plates and most of the servants had left the servant's hall to pursue their respective duties he remained seated and closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted to make sure that everything around him was still the same, wanted to hear the noise from the kitchen, the scurrying of their feet across the corridor and up the stairs. He needed this daily routine now. It reassured him. When he opened his eyes again, Anna stood next to him.

"I'm glad she will recover," she said.

"We all are," he answered, avoiding just answering for himself. "And I thank you for all that you have done Anna. Mrs. Hughes owes you a lot and so do I." he added.

She smiled at him. "I'm happy I could help her. But I believe you were the one that contributed to her recovery much more than I ever could, if I may say so."

He raised a brow but then remembered what had awoken him and realized that it had probably been Anna who had entered her bedroom in the early hours of the morning. "Thank you Anna." He paused. "You won't tell anyone?"

She shook her head. "Of course not, Mr. Carson."

* * *

><p><em>AN2 It can either end here or go on for one more chapter. I'm not sure yet. _

_Hope you enjoyed it._


	5. 05 Fever

_A/N SHIT, I'm tired but I wanted to finish this. So when you see a massive amount of typos: sorry, couldn't concentrate any more, had no coffee today :)_

_No copyright infringement intended. I borrowed the characters from Mr. Fellowes and ITV._

**EPILOGUE 01**

**05. Fever**

* * *

><p>She could not recall what exactly had happened since she had lost her consciousness at the foot of the stairs a few nights ago. There were only bits of memories left, little moments she remembered, his face above hers, his voice talking to her, trying to wake her up. She was lying there on the ground and could not stand up again. Her legs were so heavy, her head ached beyond description, her arms were paralyzed. Then suddenly someone lifted her body easily from the ground as if she weighed nothing and carried her upstairs. She did not see who it was, only felt a strong pair of hands and a broad chest she was able to lean on to the moment she regained consciousness again for a few seconds. She tried to talk, to say she was fine and did not need any help but she could neither open her mouth nor make it form words for him to hear.<p>

He gently laid her down on her bed. She tried to open her eyes as soon as she felt his hands go away and stopped to touch her but it was all in vain. Powerless she sank into the mattress and from then on her memory was nothing but a grey blur until the next day.

They all stood around her bed. Dr. Clarkson, red-faced, stressed and somehow appearing unusually helpless; Anna, a worried look on her pale face and Mr. Carson whose face she had never seen so anxious. "What has happened?" she managed to say though her voice did not sound like her own. She hardly recognized it. Dr. Clarkson explained everything, using too many words and too many of his medical terms for her to fully understand the seriousness of her illness. Apparently she had also been infected with the Spanish flu and had been taken care of by Anna for the last 24 hours. In turns she looked at Dr. Clarkson, at Anna and then again at Mr. Carson who averted his gaze to hide the concerned look in his eyes. She tried to sit up but her arms would not allow her to push her body into a sitting position. She tried desperately to turn around in her bed and get her feet to the ground until she felt his strong hands on her arms, gently but insistently pushing her back onto the mattress.

"Mrs. Hughes you cannot get up. You are seriously ill and need to stay in bed for at least a week." He heard his deep voice softly speaking to her.

"No, Mr. Carson there's too much work to do." With all the strength she could muster she tried to fight his hands off but he would not let go. The tone in his voice became more urgent.

"I can manage." He assured her.

No you cannot, she heard the voice in her head protest. You do not have enough staff to manage without me. Besides you never take care of yourself when I'm not around and I don't want you to collapse again. She tried to heave her uncooperative body out of the bed a second time. This time his grip on her arms was tight and almost painful, his voice fierce and commanding. "Mrs. Hughes!" The look on his face however did not match the tone of his voice. She could see the worry and wondered why they were all making such a fuss about a bit of flu. He did not let go of her arm. One of his hands remained on her shoulder, applying enough pressure to prevent her from getting up again. Mr. Carson should really mind his own business. She was very capable of looking after herself and did not need him to tell what to do. Then the room began to spin around and became black for the split of a second.

The next thing she remembered was how Clarkson handed her a glass of water and an aspirin. Reluctantly she swallowed the white pill and downed it with a large sip of water. After that everything was blurry again.

ooooo

It was so hot inside the room. Why was she covered in so many blankets, why did they rekindle the fire? Why did no one open a window? She needed some fresh air! She was so hot! And her throat was completely dry, her eyes won't open and there were voices inside her head that continuously told her to relax. She could hear his deep baritone voice telling her to wake up and suddenly felt the touch of his hand on her shoulder again. Not firm like the last time but gentle, almost anxious. And there was more. His thumb hesitantly caressed her skin. She had never felt something like this before, so soothing and careful was his touch that she did not want it to go away again. "Don't leave me alone," she could not speak, just whisper breathlessly in a desperate attempt to get his attention. There was his voice again and she did not know if this was all just a dream or real. It felt like a dream because Charles Carson would never touch her like this. He had promised it, years ago, after he had returned from his first season as butler. Sometimes she wished she had never sent this letter that started it, had just awaited his return from London and told him what she felt. Instead there was this mutual agreement to not risk their friendship for a love that was impossible to carry out.

His hand was still there so she risked opening her eyes to find out if he was real. There was something that looked like his face right above her, blurry, too dark, and with eyes that were too concerned and worried to be his. She heard herself ask a question about what was going on though she knew she was ill. All she wanted to know was why Mr. Carson sat next to her bed and why his hand rested on her shoulder. They told her how serious her condition was and that she needed to take another aspirin. All of a sudden his hand was on her back when he helped her to finally drink some water. The cool liquid was a relief for her sore throat and the aspirin for the pain in her limbs. She wanted to ask if he could stay with her, forget about their stupid rules and comfort her, make her feel better. But she was too tired and could not control her eyes. All was dark again suddenly.

ooooo

It was still too hot in her room. Who was responsible for that? She tried to get rid of the bed covers, kicked them off, pushed them away until they fell to the floor and the fresh air was able to cool her heated skin.

She had a recurring dream. They were walking along the main road back to the estate from a short afternoon trip into the village. It was early spring and a fresh breeze cooled her sweaty face underneath her black hat. Mr. Carson was walking alongside her, occasionally turning his head when he talked to her. She could not hear his voice. Their mouths moved but no sound was uttered. But they both laughed. Then they suddenly stopped walking and he took out something from his pocket, a small thin piece of paper. She took it and smiled at it, putting it in her handbag. It was a picture of him that since that day she had kept in the little drawer on her desk. Usually the dream ended here but tonight it went on, he took her hand, let his thumb brush across the back of it. Then he took of her hat and stroked her hair ever so softly that she closed her eyes and held his other hand close to her chest so that he could feel her heart beat. Feel how much she wanted to be with him, not just as a friend but as his companion, his love.

When she woke up again, someone had covered her body with a blanket again and she felt how he freed his hand from her grip. He must have been with her all night, sitting on that chair next to her bed, taking care of her for real not just in her dream. She struggled against the arising tiredness and managed to open her eyes and turn her head a bit so that she could see his face. She whispered his name and saw how he smiled down at her. His face was more relaxed than the last time she had seen it but there was still worry in his look. He helped her to drink some water, helped her to stop the coughing. He had been with her all night, something she had never expected would happen although she knew how much he cared for her. But Charles Carson was a man that followed the rules he had set up for himself. And there was this one agreement between them that he would not dare to break although she so wishfully wanted him to.

ooooo

Her body ached and whenever she was conscious the slightest turn made her wince. By now she had realized how serious her condition really was and she tried to fight against the flu. She had always been the strong one in her family, the one that had fought her way bravely to the top. But she knew that something was wrong now because her dreams had changed and were now disturbing and dark. There was hardly any light in them only grey shadows and dull voices coming from several directions, telling her to follow them to a better place. She wanted to resist, did not want to listen to them and tried to fight against the urge to answer to any of them. She was not ready to leave this world behind. Not yet. There were still so many things she wanted to do and so many things she had to say and set right.

During the day he had not been in her room. She had not felt his touch, had not heard his voice. There were other people around she neither saw nor heard. Whenever she managed to open her eyes no one was there.

But now a cool sensation on her forehead fortunately ended this last dream though she did not really feel awake yet. She could not see who was with her. Only when she felt the soft touch of his hands on her cheek did she realize that Charles Carson had returned or had he never been away? She wasn't sure.

"You are still here?" she whispered, grateful for his company. "How long had I been asleep?"

"All day, Mrs. Hughes."

Anna had taken care of her he told her but she could not remember that. She had always only felt his touch, his hands and heard his voice. Nothing else penetrated her feverish dreams. And when she looked into his eyes she knew why he had been there and it made her heart ache with a fear she had never encountered before. He was afraid for her life. She grabbed his hand in an attempt to make sure she was still alive. The minutes that followed, the way he spoke to her, the way his normally so strong voice cracked made her even more aware of her condition. She could not stop her tears and longed for him to hold her. He would not let her die alone, he would not let her go without holding her one last time. Would he? When she felt his hand on her back and his arms around her body she knew nothing would happen to her and everything would be all-right. She could hear his heartbeat, smell his cologne, feel the starched shirt next to her cheek. He was her best friend, the only person she allowed to be near her, the only man she had ever confided in. He would be the last one she would see before everything ended and this was all she wanted.

ooooo

The dreams were gone and replaced by an impenetrable blackness. She could neither think nor move, her eyes refused to open and the only word she managed to speak was _stay. _Because she wanted him to stay and never leave her again.

She awoke in the middle of the night. Suddenly the pain in her limbs was gone and her vision was no longer blurry. For the first time in days the sleep had not exhausted but strengthened her. And there was something else that was different. Her head was not lying on the cushion but rested on a strong arm whose hand touched her neck. He was lying next to her on the bed which was something she had long ago stopped dreaming of. So he had broken his own rules, given up their agreement and that stupid decision she had made years ago was now finally irrelevant. She let her hand touch his chest to wake him up. Her mouth formed his name, not the usual, formal "Mr. Carson", but _Charles. _He had been there for her, had supported her and taken care of her. Mr. Carson would never have done that to that extent. It was Charles that did all this for her.

She saw the relief on his face when he woke up and realized that the fever had almost gone. She felt how he drew her closer to his side, supported her. The restraint was gone.

* * *

><p><em>AN so before my eyes fall shut I want to thank everyone that left a review for this story! You wrote this fifth chapter (and the sixth as well)! THANKS!_


	6. 06 Awakening

_A/N The Epilogue of the Epilogue. This is a bit shorter than the other chapters. Hope you like it!_

_As always: the characters are not mine, they belong to ITV and Mr. Fellowes._

**6. Awakening**

* * *

><p>Much to her dislike Dr. Clarkson confined her to bed for another week. She needed the rest desperately to recover. The first day without feverish dreams was a blessing for her exhausted body but it also meant that Charles would not stay with her. Now that she was on her way to recovery there was no need for him anymore to take care of her during the night. Nevertheless he had checked on her twice during his busy day, making sure she was all right. But he never stayed long or touched her again like he did last night. Still there was a different smile on his face, a glitter in his eyes she had not seen for a long time, but he made sure not to touch her more than necessary. He helped her to sit up, drink some warm tea which was a relief to her still sore throat, plumped up her cushions and tugged the blanket around her, but his hands never caressed her cheek or her forehead during these brief encounters.<p>

When the sun was already setting, Anna entered her room with some fresh tea and a fresh nightdress.

"Mr. Carson told me to bring this up," the maid was obviously referring to the tea which she placed on her bed stand. "Would you like a cup right away, Mrs. Hughes?"

"Thank you Anna that would be nice." She somehow managed to sit up and rest her back against the headboard though it took a lot of strength to heave her body from the mattress. Grateful she accepted the tea and took a few sips.

"I was told to inform you that everything is running smoothly downstairs," the young woman smiled at her. "I guess Mr. Carson thought that you would like to be informed in case you worry about the daily routine."

She had not thought about work to be honest, not during the last days when her mind had been so occupied with fighting against the flu. And whenever she had been awake he had been there and that had troubled her thoughts even more. "It's good to know." She took another sip of tea and eyed the nightdress Anna had draped onto her armchair. "I saw you brought a new dress with you as well."

Hastily Anna turned around and grabbed the garment. "I'm sorry Mrs. Hughes I just thought that you would feel better in a fresh one."

"There's no need to be sorry Anna. I'm glad you thought of it though I'm not sure if I'm already capable of getting up on my own."

Anna placed the nightdress on top of the blanket and held her hands out for Elsie to grab. "You mustn't do that", she protested but the look on the housemaid's face was determined. Carefully Elsie shifted her legs to rest on the floor. It was the first time her body was in a sitting position for days. White sparks flashed in front of her eyes and the room started to spin around. She had to close her eyes for a moment to overcome the nausea. Anna's hands grabbed hers and in a joint effort she managed to stand up, one arm across the housemaid's shoulders and her other hand holding fast onto the headboard.

"You are a ladies maid Anna but that does not mean you have to help me change my dress," she tried a second time to convince Anna that she did not want her help with such an intimate thing as changing her nightdress. It was different with the young ladies. Anna was their servant obliged to do whatever they wished and asked for. But she was her superior, a woman she respected. "If you could just help me step behind the screen and I will do it myself."

Her legs were shaking from the unusual exertion but she made her way towards the screen and pressed her back against the stone wall behind her. Once more everything around her started to spin around. Just barely did she manage to open the buttons on the front of her nightdress and pulled it over her head. She had to pause for a moment to catch her breath before she softly asked Anna to hand her the fresh nightgown. Elsie held it in front of her body unable to lift her arms again to put it on. She stood like this for what felt like hours, slowly breathing, trying to keep standing upright.

"Mr. Carson, I'm sorry but I cannot let you in right now." Anna's voice sounded muffled as if she was not standing right behind the screen but somewhere else in the room. Elsie still concentrated on not losing consciousness when she heard his deep voice from a far away distance.

"What's wrong with her? Where is she Anna?" Not now, she thought. She had longed to see him again, to hear his voice talk to her in her sleep. This was the one thing she could remember from the last days and nights. But she did not want him to see her like this, half naked and barely conscious. She heard him approach, heard his footsteps come nearer and then luckily Anna's small and light steps interfered.

"Please Mr. Carson. Everything is all right."

In one last major effort Elsie tried to lift her arms and pull the nightdress over her head. Then she passed out and her body slid down the wall onto the floor.

ooooo

She was surrounded by the sound of subdued voices. There was his deep baritone somewhere in the distance, Anna's high and calm voice and another male one she identified as Clarkson's.

"She should not have left her bed!"

"Dr. Clarkson, Anna only meant well so please don't blame her." His voice was coming nearer. "Just assure us that she is all right and only suffered from a fit of dizziness due to the many days she had spent in bed."

He was mumbling an apology and concluded by saying, "Make sure she does not try to get up again until at least tomorrow evening." A door was opened and closed and people left her bedroom. But not all of them. She could hear his strained breathing, smell the faint odour of his cologne and then feel his hand on her forehead. "Elsie", he sighed. Her eyelids refused to open. She was so tired again, so exhausted. This time it was not the fever that was causing it but the lack of profound sleep.

She felt how he sat down on the edge of the bed next to her, still stroking her forehead gently with his thumb, brushing away lose strands of hair, murmuring her name over and over again. She tried to persuade her lips to form a smile to show him that he heard him, could feel him, knew that he was there and how much she appreciated his comfort and his touch. But her body refused to play along and she hated to be helpless again. Hated to lie here, almost recovered and still not being able to be her normal self. His thumb touched her lips now and was suddenly replaced by a warm sensation that flushed her whole body. She could feel his soft lips on hers and a few days ago she would have pushed him away, shout at him, maybe even throw something in his direction. Right now all she wanted was this kiss to never end.

He drew away slowly. His hand still rested on her cheek, a thumb brushing across her lips where his had been seconds before. The sensation he had caused was still tingling throughout her body causing her eyes to finally open. His face was smiling down at her with a glimmer in his eyes she had never seen before. They did not speak a word. They did not need to because they both knew what had happened between them. It did not matter what consequences they might face. There was just his relieved and loving smile above her and it was enough for her to be quite certain that everything was possible now.

ooooo

"I am perfectly fine, thank you." She opened the door to her sitting room with her elbow and entered it with her back first, the tray with the two teacups and a teapot in her hands. He followed and closed the door behind her. She heard how the key was turned twice inside the lock and then felt his hand on her lower back, softly stroking it until it came to rest on her bottom.

"Charles, I don't think this is such a good idea." He knew perfectly well that the place where his hand rested right now was a very sensitive spot even when covered with several layers of cloth.

"You have still not fully recovered and need a lot of rest so I would suggest that you lie down and relax for half an hour before going back to work." She could feel his lips near her ear and feel the sentence he whispered next rather than hear it. "And I can lie next to you and make sure you thoroughly relax."

It had been only two weeks since she had been allowed to start work again. He had spent every night with her, sitting either on his armchair he had carried over to her room or resting on the bed next to her, holding her close to make sure she slept well. When Dr. Clarkson had decided it was time for Elsie to get up and to leave her room again, he had returned to sleep in his own bed at night and stopped his visits to the women's quarters. But as soon as she was downstairs again they continued to grow their relationship bit by bit, make up for all the years they had missed, carefully avoiding to be seen or heard by anyone.

"All right then, I will take a break", she smiled at him and placed a small kiss next to his ear then took his hand and guided him over the small settee in the corner of her sitting room. The moment she had stretched out on the soft fabric she realized how exhausted she really was. Charles lay down right beside her, letting his arm encircle her body and draw her close. She could feel his other hand caressing her neck while she rested her head on his chest to listen to his heartbeat.

"Do you want to try it tonight?" she whispered.

"I told you I can wait. If you are not ready yet, I don't mind." He kissed her forehead.

"I want to but I must admit that I am also afraid."

"Don't be. I will take care of you." He tilted her head to place a soft kiss on her nose and then on her lips to seal his promise.

**THE END**

* * *

><p><em>AC Because this is the epilogue of the epilogue I got a bit OOC at the end. Especially because I gave you another large paragraph full of angst ._


End file.
